the moon that breaks the night
by raffinit
Summary: AU: She thought she would die on her feet. M for later contents, more details inside.
1. the moon that breaks the night

**AU: **_The team is missing. Where are they? Who has taken them? What do they want with them?_ (**Supernatural/Fantasy/loose-Biblical references, so be warned if you're against any of that)**

* * *

S_he thought she would die on her feet._

_The forest before her seemed endless. The twigs and stones were merciless on the bare soles of her feet. Every step burned, blood kept her footing damp on the sharp undergrowth - a scent for them to follow. They wouldn't need the hounds to find her; they had the best tracker they would ever need._

_The pounding of footsteps not hers, too deep and too harsh from rubber soles and scrabbling paws - the drumming of her heart in her ears would render her deaf. Each breath burned, sweat pricked her eyes; she was running blind._

_Behind her was black, ahead of her even darker. A bitter voice in her frantic mind contemplated the lesser of two evils - which one to surrender herself to first; the monster of the darkness, or the beast of her mind?_

_"There!"_

_At first she thought she'd been struck by a club. Hard, sturdy and damaging, the wind was stolen from her lungs, and she crumbled to the underbrush with a pained scream. She fought immediately, clawing, kicking, gnashing her teeth like the feral creature they thought her to be, but there was no use fighting the brute that came upon her like the fury of the very night itself._

_He pinned her as easily as he would've pinned a rabbit; it terrified her to discover the kind of strength he'd hid away underneath his business suits. There were no restraints here, nothing to keep the beast within him chained, and she strained to find his face in the darkness. Desperately she fought his bruising grip; she tasted the rust and salt of her sweat and blood on her mouth. Her face contorted in a pained shriek when his knees straddled her thighs. The muscles burned; she gasped aloud and hated herself for it._

_She realized then – that was no club that struck her._

_"Hotch…." The rest of the hunting group had gathered around them, watching in impatient huddles and snarling breaths. The dogs heaved and strained at their leashes, their gleaming fangs clear in the dim light of the flashlights that hoarded over their bodies like spotlights. She searched his face desperately, pleaded with him as much as she would allow herself to – without submission but with a vicious defiance. Weak and wounded, she was no match for him, let alone the rest of them. Still she bore her teeth at her former supervisor and let her eyes flash black at the man's unreadable face._

_"I hope you rot in hell."_

_The crowd of men around them spat and jeered at her, the dogs snarled louder; their jaws clipped together dangerously close to her flesh. The man pinning her was motionless though, and even then she could feel the rough leather of his bindings biting into the skin of his wrists. A sound vibrated through his chest, louder than the dogs, sharper than the sneering words of the shrouded men around them. He leaned in slowly, like a ghost, and she saw the gleam of her own frightened face in the bottomless abyss of his black eyes._

_His breath was hot, his voice harsh and grating – no longer human, more beast than anything else. The heave of his breath on her ear made her shiver; the words that came next promised a horrifying punishment._

_"I'm already in it, Emily. You are too."_

_Beyond that, Emily remembered the sight of a boot slamming into the side of her head._

* * *

_**One week prior**_

They'd been told to keep on the roads. It wasn't a difficult order to adhere to; they were federal agents who knew what waited for unsuspecting wanderers on the roads not taken. Missing wanderers were the very reason they were out there in the first place - people disappearing into the woods; men and women alike. They'd anticipated it to be a sick and twisted version of game hunting...but no bodies were found.

They'd disappeared, and that was the end of it.

But then a body was found on the edge of a forest, seemingly untouched, as if it'd fallen asleep there.

Their only known victim was a five year old girl. Poisoned and left for dead.

That was enough reason for them to drive out.

The road was blocked. A fallen tree out of the blue, perfectly set across their path. It wouldn't have disturbed them as much if they didn't realize the trunk had been sliced through cleanly with a chainsaw.

A trap.

The men were immediately guarded; the dark gaze of their supervisor glanced back to the blonde and brunette women sitting uneasily together. "Stay here," he ordered. They saw his piece in his right hand. "Lock the doors after us."

Their eyes met, their gazes lingered for what seemed to her as an eternity. It broke with the sound of Morgan's door opening.

Morgan and Hotch disembarked and approached the tree warily; behind their car was another - Reid and Rossi flashing their headlights curiously. Emily turned in her seat to peer at them through the glass, and her eyes caught Rossi's suspicious gaze. She lifted her hand, fingers to the sky, and mimicked the falling of a tree.

She frowned when Rossi's eyes grew wide, and the man scrambled out of the driver's seat towards them. "Get back in the car!" he shouted, gun poised in front of him, the other hand waving frantically. "Get back in the damn car, it's an ambush!"

But the warning came too late - a horrid grinding noise came from either side, JJ screamed as an explosion of glass came upon them. Emily swore violently, grasping at her holster by her hip, pulling her sig into her hand. But it was too late.

All too violently there was a hand in her hair, nearly ripping the roots from her scalp as she was hauled out of the car. Pain bloomed like flames under her eyelids, she could hear JJ screaming from the other side of the car and the men roaring at their captors to release them, and Emily turned her eyes upwards to the man holding her hair in his fist.

"Get away from them!" Hotch's booming voice reverberated through the forest space; Emily's quiet gasps of fear were smothered by the sight of her Unit Chief standing in the moonlight like a statue, the glint of his gun clear in the gibbous moon above them.

She fought ruthlessly, kicking the against her captor and sinking her short nails as harshly as she could into the skin of his wrist. It was useless, she thought bitterly. Her nails were nonexistent and his skin was tough like leather - she would sooner break her nails than his skin. Her eyes slammed shut when his hold tightened punishingly, and Emily felt him rip the scream from her throat.

The sound tore through his chest sharper than a bullet, and the man lunged forward as the pack of unseen men began to circle the car behind them. Screams and whimpers came from both the women - JJ cried out loudest when the men forced Reid and Rossi to their knees.

Morgan threw himself into the foray, fighting one, two men at once; releasing JJ from their grasp and shoving her under the car as the older man and young doctor both snatched their guns into their hands and began firing.

The explosion of sound threw the man holding Emily, his grip tightened hard enough to elicit another cry from the woman, and that was enough to spur Hotch into motion.

"Let her go!" he snarled, and the men collided in a rush of grunts and tussling limbs. He ripped Emily from his fist, hauling her against his chest and behind him, pausing only minutely to ensure her safety before he threw himself at the massive beast once more. He slammed his fist into the man's jaw, smirking viciously at the satisfying crunch before jamming his knee into his chest.

"Hotch, watch out!" Emily cried, and Hotch reeled back just as a club came crashing down onto his opponent's chest. There was a sickening crunch of bone and blood, and they knew he was dead. Hotch scrambled backwards, rising to his feet to face the new threat, only to have his spine chill at the horrifying scream that came from Emily's mouth once more.

"HOTCH!"

Emily's wail came just as a club slammed into the back of his skull.

* * *

**More detail in the next chapter. I just wanted this out here.**


	2. be careful of the curse

_**This took a lot longer to write than I anticipated, but I've had a sudden wave of papers to write and things to finish. **_

_**Anyway.**_

* * *

He woke with the drums of agony pounding inside of his skull. There was no escaping the blinding light of the sun, that even beneath his lids he could feel burning over him. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, and it was only when he raised a weary hand to wipe them that he realized the reality of his situation.

Cold, hard leather bound his wrists to a heavy pair of chains. Heavy aged steel kept him joined to the wall beneath him; so medieval that only canons of old could break him loose. Frowning deeply, the man staggered upright, leaning heavily against the wall as his mind continued to spin and whirl from the smothering pain resonating from the back of his head.

He winced as he touched it; the pain would be his friend for a while.

He examined his surroundings shrewdly; the thick smell of yellow age and musty stocks that verified itself as a cellar of sorts and the threadbare state of the thin mattresses strewn in corners showed signs of more abuse than he cared to think about.

There was a groan from somewhere in the room, and Hotch's senses were immediately on alert. His eyes focused in the light, and he made out the bodies of his team sprawled around the room.

Something wasn't right.

Morgan, Reid, and Rossi; only the men - all bound the same as he, all groaning in a sluggish recovery.

His heart leapt into his throat, clotting like a disease. Where were the women?

"H-Hotch?"

He turned to the guttural slur, watching as Morgan strained to focus his eyes in the light to see him. "Morgan." The burly man struggled to his feet, his chains ground noisily against the concrete floor as he straightened as much as he could; slouching from the limited range his bindings allowed him. No doubt his chains were heavier, cast on the man that posed the most threat to their captors physically.

Hotch frowned at the pinched brow of the man's face. "Are you alright?"

Morgan gave a grunt, shaking his head slowly as he rubbed at the back of his head. It pounded like a drill to his skull; there had been no buffer when the club had slammed into his head. Perhaps it was time to reconsider hair. "I think so," he mumbled, wincing as his fingers grazed over the sizable lump. "Damn."

Hotch curled his lips inwards, brows pinched low on his face as he stared apprehensively at the other two figures. Rossi came to next, irritably, and Reid last - the Unit Chief felt a flutter of concern dig into his chest at the dazed way the young man's eyes scrutinized their surroundings.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked firmly, pulling their focus to him as they tested their bindings and grunted affirmatives to him. He straightened up, scowling when he realized why he seemed so weightless.

His guns were gone. The holsters on his hip and ankle felt hollow; a part of him was missing - forcibly taken from him and the others when they were unconscious. Even his blazer was missing, and it unsettled him to know that they had been disarmed and disrobed as such.

It disconcerted him more to think of where the girls were, and what they'd done to them yet.

"Well," Rossi began, as Morgan tugged and pulled and swore spitefully at the iron chains that held him. "I guess we found what we were looking for."

"They were expecting us," Reid uttered quietly, and Hotch frowned at the deep bruise that marred the side of the man's face. He looked like a teenager, young and wounded and unsure - frightened and lost. His flickering gaze met Hotch's dark, piercing eyes but for a moment, and Reid was suddenly himself once more. "An ambush on a team of federal agents would take manpower and weapons to accomplish. They knew we would be taking that road alone; cutting down a tree of that size would've taken time. Time before we even left the station."

Hotch growled at the thought. "Someone told them we were coming." Not only had their invisible UnSub(s) been warned of their arrival, but whoever that was in cohorts with them had most likely known about the ambush.

Perhaps he had even helped.

There was an uneasy silence between the men, a reluctance in wanting to admit that there had been spy in their midsts without their knowledge. But it was too late to berate themselves then - his priority was the women.

Where were Emily and JJ?

Worse yet - what had they done to them while he slept?

* * *

"JJ? JJ, wake up. Come on, Jayje, wake up."

The blonde groaned at the voice, brows pinching tight as she squinted in the sunlight and turned to the hand touching her cheek. Slowly her eyes opened, and it was a moment before the haze in her blue eyes cleared enough for her to focus on the hovering face. Presently the face came to focus, and JJ reached for the familiar brunette's face.

"Emily?" she croaked, and the older woman smiled down at her emptily before helping her up. JJ groaned as her head began to drum the an unheard beat inside her skull, and pressed her hand to her temple where the club had struck her. She hissed at the smarting skin there, and felt the small welt beneath her matted hair.

It had broken skin.

She could smell the rust of her blood, but was relieved when she felt the dried patch resting over her temple. It had stopped bleeding, but JJ was more upset at the fact that she had bled in the first place. She wasn't much for the field, though she could hold her own just as well as Emily could; she was still of smaller build and strength. The blow had her reeling for longer, and the blonde scowled as she staggered against the taller woman, and then gazed around the room warily.

A cellar of some sort, or perhaps a basement. Everything was concrete and old; she wondered if there wasn't mold in the corners waiting to kill them. Beneath her she could feel the coils of a mattress pushing through the thin material, and thought best not to look down at the bedding she laid on.

Instead she turned to the woman beside her and peered intently into Emily's face.

Her eyes fell to the collar cinched around the brunette's long and graceful neck, and JJ gasped at the sight of the reddened skin underneath it. Her hand rose to her own throat, though it touched nothing but soft skin. Disbelieving and frightened eyes searched Emily's desperately. "What -?"

Emily shook her head abruptly, her eyes hard and dark. The collar was tight around her neck, biting enough to remind her of her place - the mark on her skin came from the fight she'd given when they collared her. They'd pinned her to the mattress and tightened it until she'd collapsed, but not before she'd kicked and clawed and ripped into the arm of one of the burly men cornering her.

The rest of her body was untouched, something that relieved Emily beyond what she could explain.

"They brought you in after me," she murmured quietly. "You were here when I got up." Emily glanced off at the door of their prison, watching sharply for any sign of movement from beyond. "They should be back soon; they wait until you're awake to come back."

The ominous words of the woman made JJ's spine chill, and an unsettling feeling of heavy fear plummeted into her stomach. No doubt they were coming to bind her as they had Emily. Nervously she reached for Emily's hand, and made a quick note at the dark bruises circling the woman's thin wrist.

"Where are the others?" she asked, to which Emily shrugged; the apprehensive gleam of her dark eyes belied the casual movement.

She didn't know where the men were, and it was clear to JJ that she was afraid of finding out.

They jumped when there came a grating sound of old and heavy metal, and Emily shoved JJ backwards and stood before her protectively, baring her teeth and glaring defiantly at the four figures that appeared.

They paid her no heed, marching towards them purposefully and pulling them apart. Emily snarled and fought, as hard as JJ did, but they were no match for the hulking brutes restraining them. "Let her go!" Emily screamed, writhing angrily as she watched the men begin to collar JJ, but was helpless as the blonde sputtered and choked underneath the tightening leather.

Panic settled in her chest like a snake coiled comfortably when JJ's eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed limp in the man's hold.

There were hands on her then, aggressive and brusque as they began to rip her clothes from her body. Emily screamed and thrashed as hard as she could, adrenaline pumping to the tips of her fingers - but there was no use. The beasts outweighed her by at least fifty pounds of muscle; she would sooner break her limbs than escape them.

They were undressed to their underthings, the one grasp at modesty they were spared before something was shoved over their heads - a near-threadbare sundress that fell barely mid-thigh. Emily crumbled to her knees when she was released suddenly, grunting as the concrete scraped at her knees and palms before she was forced back onto her feet by an iron grip to her collar.

She gasped and choked, desperate for air as they looped what seemed to be a leash around the metal hoop of her collar. She was released just as suddenly as before, and Emily didn't bother to catch herself. Darkness danced around the corner of her eyes, her head whirled in the airy way of deprived oxygen, but the woman was pulled forward then by a harsh tug at the leash.

"Move, bitch," one of them grunted, and kicked at her hip until she complied, rising to her shaking feet.

She glared at them still, black hate and vitriol even as her head danced in the clouds. She grasped the leash in her hands if only to loosen the pressure, but followed their lumbering steps. "Where are you taking us?" she demanded. JJ was hauled over a shoulder beside her, a limp and weightless mass that the man carried like hunted game. "What did you do to the others?"

There was a look shared between the men before a derogatory laugh, and Emily felt the cold dread settle in her stomach.

"You'll see 'em soon, doll-face. Don't you worry about that." The one holding her leash glanced to her over his shoulder, and he sneered. "You're just gonna see your Master first. Can't have bitches around without having the Okay from Master first."

The one carrying JJ chortled, and gave the unconscious woman a hearty slap on the ass. "Mighty fine breed, aren't they? Master's gonna be real pleased." He glanced at Emily and smiled wickedly.

"Especially with you, tiger-puss. Most especially with you."

* * *

**We'll be reading flashbacks for the first few chapters. I'd say five maybe, but it could take longer. I'm hoping most of what happens will make sense by then.**


	3. starts so soft and sweet

**More detail, although not too much.**

**Warning for a slightly bloody death.**

* * *

The room they were led into resembled a large study, fine carpet were soothing on their bare feet and warm yellow sunlight lit the room through large open windows on the walls of the study. The walls without windows were lined with books, but Emily was more interested in the man holding the book than the title.

There were seven people in the room. Two women stood in the corners tending to a couple of young children, and two men stood by the one reading with his back to them like armed guards. Emily glanced down at their hips and recognized the shape of her own holster sitting on the belt of one of the men. Her eyes snapped up to his face, and narrowed in dangerous spite.

JJ eyed the children, having woken halfway through their journey through the hallways. The collar bit into her skin; no doubt she would bare the same mark as Emily did, though not as dark. She had learned from Emily's sharp gaze not to resist them - for her own sake.

The children were young, one was not yet three and the other barely a year old. The older of the two was a girl, but even JJ could see that she was thin and frail, and very underdeveloped. The woman holding her was just as worn and weak, too thin to be healthy with limp wheat-colored hair around her face. The girl had hair almost black, tangled and long around her pale face; dark eyes stared at them warily from the woman's arms.

The baby was a boy, healthy and happy as a child should be, with an adorable tuft of dark hair and wide dark eyes that peered curiously at them as they entered the room. Like the girl, he too sat in the arms of blonde woman, though she was significantly healthier than the other. JJ eyed them suspiciously - they were not the children's mothers.

The man reading turned to them then, snapping the book shut as his eyes fell on them. Something in his face shifted, and his eyes brightened when they settled on the defiant brunette glowering at him.

"Ah, you're both awake. Good morning." The silken sneer came with a vicious grin and lascivious bright eyes, and JJ smothered the overwhelming urge to shudder under his gaze. The man was average in height and mostly pleasing to the eye, with a lean build that hid a frightening amount of strength. If not for the predatory gleam in his eyes, he would have been attractive.

But then - so was Ted Bundy.

"I hope you slept well," he said politely, though Emily bristled at the derisive undertone. He began to pace around the room and the women; his strides were casual and languid, as if walking through a park. The grey of his eyes were even and almost uninterested as he regarded Emily and JJ, although they lingered most on the brunette eyeing him sharply. "My men tell me you've been giving them some trouble with the collaring."

Emily growled at him. "They deserved it," she spat, and JJ screamed when the woman was backhanded across the mouth. She thrashed in their hold, straining for Emily where the brunette had crumbled to the ground; the men that held her leash laughed uproariously when they saw blood on her mouth.

The man scowled down at her, peering at her over his nose as he examined the back of his hand carefully. "I do not tolerate disrespect from my pets, Agent Prentiss. You'd best recognize that now." He smiled coldly when the woman whirled to him incredulously. "Yes, I know who you are." He glanced at JJ. "I know who all of you are."

The doors opened once more, and the man turned to the sound with a pleased, expectant smile. "Ah, here are the boys. Just in time."

The men came into the room as unruly as captured beasts, snarling and swearing and fighting their bonds. It shook the women to see them as such - even Hotch who prided himself with the stone face of a statue bore his teeth as the man leading him, but could not strike out. All but Reid fought; instead the young man cowered submissively in his chains, flinching at every lash of leather on skin.

Unlike them, Emily realized, the men were bound by their wrists as well.

No doubt, the men were antagonized.

"Now boys," the man chided them, and it merely served to infuriate the bound men more at the condescending sneer of his words. "That's no way to act in front of girls."

Hotch lifted his head suddenly, his eyes startlingly wide as he searched the room frantically for the girls he spoke of. His hazel eyes fell upon the woman held by her collar by a man on either side of her, rendering her motionless between them. He scanned her swiftly, taking in the dress she wore and the blood on her lips that marked it like a brand. All sense left his rage-driven mind then, and Hotch snarled as he lunged forward, nearly frothing at the mouth and his eyes gleaming black.

There was no resistance from the men holding his leash - there couldn't be. He was a force to behold even for them, a beast with a terrifying strength of legend.

The hiss of the whip lashing across his face had the women screaming once more; even the children began to whimper, but it was Emily who screamed loudest. She strained to reach for him, but the men gripping her collar were merciless, and Emily choked on a gasp as they reeled her back between them. "Hotch," she croaked desperately; the man groaned on the floor before her, and Emily gasped again when she saw the mark on his cheek.

A thin red welt marred the sharp angle of his cheekbone, cutting over his brow and eye. It would scar, Emily could see already; she was more concerned with the eye it had lashed over. Silently she pleaded with her supervisor to open his eyes, and watched apprehensively as the man struggled back to his feet.

His eyes snapped open, wild and clear, and Emily saw the clarity of focus in his eye with relief. A wound like that would haunt him more than anything they could do to him. The scar bled little, but it was pointless - leather whips were made for branding skin, not spilling blood.

The man pursed his lips cruelly, shifting the whip in his hand as he glared at Hotch irritably. His jaw ticked as he spoke, the words were gritted at best. "They warned me about your temper, Agent Hotchner." The leather creaked in his hold; the glance he spared Emily was unreadable. "Rest assured that I will not only punish you for your insolence, but each lash you take will be given to the women as well."

The shift in the dark-haired man's face was almost instantaneous, open fear clouding his wide gaze for but a moment. It took him longer than she'd ever seen for him to school his features once more, but eventually he was Hotch again. His face was cold and his glare brutal; the clench of his jaw was the only sign of his bubbling temper underneath.

There was a growl in his chest then, but the man stepped away from Emily with a reluctant obedience. He wouldn't look at Emily, no matter how hard the woman beseeched him to, and instead glanced over to where JJ stood, pale and silent beside her. Their eyes met, speaking and heavy, and JJ nodded at him curtly. A weight seemed lighter on his chest then, and he turned his cold gaze back onto the man wielding the whip.

He had assured himself that the women were otherwise unharmed - he could rest easy with them in sight once more.

"Who are you?" he growled. His eye would water and smart every so often, but the pounding of the smarting skin grounded the man - it was just another ache to his thrumming body. His vision was as sharp as ever, and that was all that mattered.

The man seemed to blink in surprise, as if the thought had completely escaped him. The malice in his face was gone then, replaced with something more frightening than the evil that sat there not a moment before. He smiled at them charmingly, bowing slightly at the hip to them.

"I beg your pardon, I must've lost my manners there for a moment." He straightened, and fixed Hotch with a winning smile. "My name is Abraham. Your Master."

* * *

Hotch reeled back incredulously, nearly scoffing at the man as he began to pace the room, fidgeting with things laid out on a table at the far end of the room. He glanced at JJ and Emily, questioning and concerned - a delusional UnSub was as volatile as hydrogen and twice as deadly. "We don't need a Master," he uttered slowly, watching carefully as the man returned to them, this time brandishing a syringe gun in his hand.

The team tensed at the sight of the metal gun; Hotch could feel Morgan and Rossi behind him somewhere - the energy in the room was growing stifling. His body coiled tight, prepared to do what was necessary should Abraham decided to turn his attention on the women.

Abraham laughed indulgently, shaking his head at the man as if it amused him. "You say that like I've given you a choice." He chuckled once more, and turned to Emily. His smile was eager and sharp; the malicious glee in his eyes had Emily cowering. "You're a fine breed, aren't you? The perfect match."

"Leave her alone!" the blustering roar came from all of the men, but it was Morgan and Hotch's deep rumbles that carried loudest.

Abraham paused, glancing at them over his shoulder. "Was one lash not sufficient to teach you your place, Beast?" he asked lazily, grasping Emily's neck in an almost loving caress. His brow rose on his forehead at the way the Beast seemed to bristle fiercer, and tilted his head down at Emily curiously. "Do you belong to him, sweet Emily?"

His bounty would come easier to him than expected.

Emily bore her teeth at him, eyes flashing defiantly at him though she shivered under his touch. "I belong to no one," she spat coldly, and threw her head back stubbornly as he began to step closer into her already limited personal space. Her nostrils flared as the scent of him assaulted her senses; the cloying scent of his aftershave nearly made her retch where she stood.

"Pity," he murmured, as he angled her neck as he pleased. "This would've been easier if you did."

The syringe plunged into the side of her neck, sharp and sudden like the bite of a rattlesnake. It hurt no more than any other inoculation Emily had experienced, and Emily hated herself bitterly when she screamed out regardless.

"EMILY!"

"Control the Beast or I will have your wives for this!" Abraham thundered suddenly, and before Hotch could register his words, there were five men pinning him facedown on the carpet. He writhed and snarled and spat; an unruly Beast - as they'd labeled him. He struggled hard, grunting as he shifted the weights on his back and shoulders until he could see Emily and Abraham clearly.

Emily seemed unchanged from the dose; whatever it was did not render her unconscious, nor did she seem to be in pain - and it terrified him all the more. Was it a poison - a drug? Were they all to be drugged and defiled before being sliced open like the animals they were referred as? He watched apprehensively as Abraham strode casually across the room to where the children seemed unmoved by all that was happening, and plucked the frail looking girl from the woman's arms.

The woman whimpered, the only protest she made as Abraham glanced at her sharply. The girl squeaked and mewled in fright, shivering in his hold as Abraham held her before him as he would a puppy. "It has been discovered that one of my children has not been sufficiently fed by her nanny," he began, and the others watched in horror as he merely dropped the girl onto the ground, leaving her to curl into a whimpering, wounded ball at his feet.

Emily lunged forward on instinct, and was mildly surprised when she was allowed to take the child into her arms, bundling the girl to her chest and hushing the shivering child gently. She tangled her fingers into the girl's dark hair, tucking her face into her neck as she glared resentfully at Abraham.

"You treat all your kids like dirt?" she spat viciously, but Abraham merely rolled his eyes at her derisively as he moved back to the woman and hauled her over to them. She stared down at the child, noted the way her thin frame seemed to collapse into itself, and Emily felt the dig hard in her chest.

"It's okay, baby," she whispered soothingly, and pulled the girl close to her as Abraham reappeared, grasping the sobbing woman's arm in a bruising grip.

"Look at her, Emily," Abraham ordered calmly, though Emily could already see the bruise forming on the woman's frail arm. "And see what is **not** expected of you."

Their eyes met; a brief moment of contact before Emily leapt back a startled scream. There came a cold blade across the woman's neck, and the tender skin of her neck gaped open like a mouth as blood spurted like a broken pipe onto Emily and the child. The frozen horror in the woman's face became her death mask as she convulsed in her last breath - a gurgling sound of a horrific death that would haunt Emily for the rest of her life.

Abraham dropped her at Emily's feet, breathing hard for a moment as he seemed to gather his thoughts. Quietly he cleared his throat, wiping the knife clean on his handkerchief as he regarded Emily with a calm, serene smile then.

"It's a shame, really," he began slowly, regretfully as he sheathed his hunting knife and slipped it back onto the handle around his belt. "She had so much potential when I first got her. They promised me good stock and fine breeding, but instead I found myself with a mutt."

He glanced at the thin girl with a scowl, his eyes laden with distaste. "Perhaps it would be a mercy to put it out of its misery as well - I have no use for weak offspring."

Emily pulled the girl closer to her, eyes flashing indignantly at Abraham as she dared him to try and removed the girl from her arms. "She's a child! How can she grow stronger if you treat her like anything less?" she protested defiantly, and over his shoulder she could see Hotch shifting uneasily.

Abraham raised an eyebrow challengingly. "And who will feed it?" he asked coldly. "It's too weak to survive without it's mother." His grey eyes were sharp and predatory as they scanned Emily's face with an almost hungry curiosity. "Do you volunteer as surrogate, sweet Emily? Do you long for a child?"

Emily cowered into herself when he leaned in, pressing the child's face into her shoulder to keep the girl from seeing her mother at their feet. His breath was warm and sickening on her face as he hovered not an inch away from her face. The collar kept her from retreating far, and Abraham bore his teeth at her in a vicious smile.

"Because I can give you one, if you like," he whispered sweetly, as a lover would. His hand, large and domineering, came to caress the material on her hip, and Emily recoiled from him with a smothered hiss. She was startled then when Abraham threw his head back and laughed, open and loud - as if she'd done something to amuse him.

Perhaps she had.

"Then it's settled. I bestow the duty of raising my child onto you, sweet Emily." He reached out, gratified at the flinch it provoked, and caressed her face before brushing her dark hair behind an ear. "You'll be sure to keep my daughter fed and healthy, won't you? It would be a shame if I had to dispose of you as I did with her mother."

When the woman was silent, but Abraham seemed too pleased to care as he moved over to the table once more and inspected another syringe gun; filled with yet another suspicious fluid. The man glanced at the stunned men and the pale blonde woman beside her before smiling from the corner of his mouth.

"Here now," he announced, as if he was a simple, jovial physician as he approached Emily again. "This should help the process along splendidly." He stabbed her again without warning, smiling at the way Emily jolted, but remained ruthless as he administered his choice drug. "It's alright, sweetheart. You'll learn, and this will only speed the process. You should be perfectly adept by tonight."

He paused as he stepped back, and there was a strange gleam in his eyes that only Emily could see, and it scared her more than she cared to admit. "You look like you'll take to motherhood like a natural."

As he left Emily to reel from his words and the child in her arms, Abraham turned his attention once more to the men. "I suppose you're all wondering why I took you." It was no question, and the man merely watched as his five men hauled Hotch back onto his feet, and this time bound him the same as Emily - three men grasping at his collar.

Abraham stepped up to him languidly, smiling straight into the seething man's face. He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes in such a way that infuriated Hotch endlessly. "I've recently discovered a profound lack of pedigree in my lineage, and I sought a fresh Pack - or Household, if you need - to liven the bloodline up a little. Strong children need to come from strong stock, don't they, Aaron?"

He smiled again, and Hotch could no longer resist the urge to lunge at the man with a guttural snarl. Abraham stepped back, clucking his tongue disapprovingly at the man as he was wrangled back into his place. "Such tenacity is put to waste in those offices and business suits, you see. I've taken you to put your vitality to better use."

He glanced behind Hotch's shoulder, observing the way Morgan fumed silently and Rossi watching carefully. The younger man seemed more than set into his place already, and Abraham smiled at the submissive way Reid avoided his gaze at all cost.

"It seems that there is hope for you after all, my Beast," he remarked, and nodded briefly to the men holding the others. "Take them to their cellars; introduce them to their chores," he ordered, and glanced at Hotch before smiling wickedly. "Feed them nothing until they beg for it."

Hotch watched, torn between instincts and the learned helplessness as the rest of his team was taken from him. Emily called out to JJ, and JJ to her, but they could do nothing as the man all but hauled the blonde forcibly by her collar towards the door. Hotch pursed his lips and bit down onto his lower lip to keep himself from calling out to them as well - to reassure the blonde at least.

His eyes found Rossi's and for a moment there was a silent understanding that passed between the men before the older Italian man was taken away. The woman and baby went with them as well, and two of Abraham's men took the body from their sights.

They stood amid the congealing blood; him, Abraham, and Emily - with their personal guards holding them in place. Emily shifted uneasily as the blood began to pool at her feet, doing her best to keep away it, but the men seemed to take pleasure in watching her discomfort. She glared at them spitefully and concentrated instead on the man staring at her worriedly.

Hotch's eyes flickered when she met them, a glimpse into his mind that only she had been able to probe through. He was searching for a profile to label Abraham with, and she knew by the deep pinch in his brow that they had stumbled on the same labels together.

Cult leader, delusional and highly temperamental.

"Do you consider yourself a powerful man, Aaron?" Hotch blinked at the question, returning his gaze to Abraham where the man smiled almost beatifically at him. Beneath the charming smile was an unsettling undertone of ruthless evil; it shook him to think of what else Abraham was capable of, if he could slit a woman's throat before her daughter's eyes and not flinch.

The Unit Chief took a moment to work his jaw before responding. "I think of myself as a capable man."

Abraham laughed thinly. "I've never heard of a man so ashamed of his power." He shook his head incredulously, eyeing Hotch as if the man was some sort of creature of entertainment to him. "Have you children of your own, Aaron? Or are you like Emily, where you pine for them in the silence of your empty apartments and lonely beds?"

Facing him, Abraham did not see the way Emily flinched, but Hotch did. His jaw tightened, his stomach coiled at the look of resentment and shame that crossed the woman's face, and he set his burning hazel eyes on the slightly shorter man before him. Panic welled in his throat at revealing Jack's existence to Abraham - who knew what he would do to his boy?

Barely five, the boy had endured too much already.

Abraham stared at him, silent for a moment before he grinned again. "Ah, a little boy." He was nearly gleeful at the stunned fear in Hotch's eyes. "No use lying, Aaron. I see it on your face; all fathers cannot hide their sons from the world. Tell me - does he look like you? Does he brood and frown as his Father does?"

He waited for no response, and instead whirled around to Emily. "I don't think he does, Aaron, and that's a shame." He weaved around Emily like a poltergeist, malicious and wickedly toying as he saw the color beginning to rise to her neck and face. The drugs were taking effect already.

"I'll make you a proposition, Aaron," he announced suddenly, and turned back to the dark-haired man; nothing but a grave frown on his face. "A trade, for the safety and wellbeing of your team as members of my village."

Hotch narrowed his eyes immediately, glaring suspiciously at Abraham as the man offered him a slow, cold smile. "Why should I trust anything you say?" he rumbled bitterly.

Abraham hummed, as if he was considering this. "Simple - accept, and you live to thrive as a House. Deny my proposition..." He glanced at Emily pointedly.

"I tear apart your little team, and I make sure you watch every moment of it."

The room was still in a cold silence as Emily and Hotch stared at each other, frantically gauging the seriousness of Abraham's threat. They knew it would be futile to fight back for the moment - the needed to gather their strengths and rally themselves before they could even think to escape.

But what were they putting at risk now?

Something flickered over Emily's face, and Hotch seemed to hesitate before he regarded Abraham carefully. "What do you want from me?"

Abraham grinned. "A son."

* * *

**I've gone back and turned the first chapter into Italic, and the rest regular because it's easier for me to do so, but I'll definitely state where the time transitions are. From here on out, the chapters from One Week before Emily runs away are in normal font.**


	4. the fabric of your flesh

**I'd like to say I know why I'm writing this, but I really don't.**

**Warnings for...things.**

* * *

The words wouldn't process in his mind.

Hotch stared at Abraham incredulously, bewildered at the simple way he'd stated his intentions - as if speaking of nothing more than a _barter_ of items between them! His brow pinched, and his eyes were wide and indignant as the man continued to stare at him expectantly. Did Abraham really think he would exchange his son's life for theirs?!

His eyes hardened, and Emily recognized the ferocious protective gleam as the same one she saw when Foyet happened. "You're not going anywhere near my son," he growled dangerously; there was a change in his throaty rumble that both disturbed Emily and aroused her.

The latter of the two only served to unsettle her more.

Abraham merely rolled his eyes again. "For a federal agent, Aaron, you're rather slow," he remarked snidely, as he began to pace them again. He lingered most on Emily, tilting his head this way and that; observing calmly as Emily's breath grew heavy and her cheeks began to pink. "Your son is of no use to me here. No doubt he's weak and ruined by your wife's tainted bloodline."

He glanced at Hotch sharply over Emily's back. "She was a blonde, wasn't she? I believe her last name was Brookes, if my memory recalls." He shook his head sadly, sighing in disappointment. "Sad, the way she went. I would've at least put her to better use."

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Hotch exploded suddenly, and the man lunged for Abraham with the fury of seven devils howling in his veins. The men holding him swore at him coarsely, jostling him in their hold before a rain of fists fell over his body. A fist slammed into the side of his head, and Hotch staggered.

Emily screamed as the man crumbled, her supervisor disappeared amidst the grunting snarls and violent swears. "Hotch!" she cried, but the men hauled her away by her collar, denying her air and forcing her away with the child as they rushed to separate the tussling men. She struggled defiantly, until the man she'd clawed before raised the barrel of her own gun to her neck.

"Be a good bitch and shut your fucking mouth, or I blow it off your face," he growled, jabbing her with the cold steel. "Then you won't be pretty no more."

Emily bore her teeth at him, but did nothing otherwise. The child in her arms whimpered at being jostled so roughly, but could not protest; instead she raised her miserable face to peer into the woman's face and mewled weakly. Emily's brows softened, though the troubled mask remained as she tucked the girl back into the crook of her neck.

"It's okay," she whispered, and even she could hear the lie in her words.

Abraham sighed disappointedly as Hotch was hauled back to his feet, shaking his head at the man as if he stood before them like a stubborn adolescent boy - proving himself in any way or form he could think to. "Aaron, you waste your energy," he told the dark-haired beast lazily, smirking as he watched the man struggle and writhe against his men. His eyes were black fires on his face, more animal than man already - nearly foaming at the mouth where his blood dripped from the split lip and broken skin at his temple.

It had only been months ago that he'd first seen the broken man on the news; a serial killer out for blood had cost him his ex-wife and nearly his son. It had intrigued him from the beginning - such strength and power that radiated from the man like a beacon, and yet he was oblivious to his potential.

"Can't you see what I say is true?" he asked the man, gesturing to where Emily stood apprehensively, staring hard at the man as blankly as she could muster. Feeling anything at that point - even anger - was a waste of strength; it only seemed to invigorate their captor more to watch them.

He was a cat and they were his prey, and he wasn't nearly done with toying with them.

Abraham snapped his fingers at the door, glancing at one of his men. "Bring in the whore."

Immediately they were alert; their eyes were sharp when they met, and warily they watched as the doors opened once more and JJ was dragged back into the room. At a glance, the petite blonde was unharmed but for the collar, but when Emily caught her bright gaze, she saw the haunted look cast over her friend's face like a shadow.

"Here, pet," Abraham crooned at her, gesturing for JJ to step closer and pointed towards Emily. "Come stand by sweet Emily for me."

Stubbornly the Media Liaison kept her eyes pinned firmly at her feet, but her guide grasped her collar and shoved her forward, grunting at her. "Move along, bitch. You'd best learn to obey your Master." The threat was clear in the gun pressed into her side, and Emily saw the blonde bite down on her lip before stepping forward towards her. She glanced up at Emily's face when they were beside each other; her shoulder brushed against Emily's and the brunette's eyes searched hers anxiously for a sign.

_Are you okay? What have they done?_

JJ shook her head slowly, and stared wide-eyed as Abraham approached her suddenly. She stepped back on instinct but could go no further. She collided into the chest of her guide, yelping in fright when Abraham grasped the front of her dress in a fist.

"Biology is a science, is it not, Aaron?" he asked the bound man, and stared down at JJ indifferently as the blonde squirmed in his hold. "Science is fact, and this is a fact too."

He jerked his hand away roughly, and JJ screamed as the dress was pulled from her body. Her hands came up immediately to cover herself, mortified and relieved when she felt the material of her bra against her palms. Her wide eyes stared at Emily and Hotch in frightened bewilderment, but they could offer her no comfort or reason when Abraham pulled her bra away with a snap as well.

"Here now, pet." He tossed the mangled garments aside, snatching JJ's wrist in a bruising hold as he forced her forward, positioning her where he pleased. With his free hand he bundled her underwear in a fist again, and JJ whimpered as it began to rip.

"Please," she blurted, trembling and ashamed as her blue eyes welled with tears long delayed. She was painfully aware of the leering eyes around the room, and JJ would not spare Hotch or Emily a look - she knew they were straining in their bindings; she could feel the anger rolling off her Unit Chief. "This isn't necessary."

Abraham clicked his tongue at her, stroking her bare hip affectionately. "It's absolutely necessary, pet. Nature cannot be denied." He shook the ripped material from his fingers and stepped back, tilting his head at JJ as if she was a sculpture to admire - his handiwork to assess and praise. A jerk of his head at her guide had JJ's hands bound behind her back in the same heavy leather cuffs that bound Hotch's, and it was then both Emily and Hotch erupted.

"Leave her alone!" Hotch snarled, and JJ flinched at the grating sound of his chains straining on his body. Perhaps they were not as heavy as Morgan's or as thick, but the bindings they'd attached to the man were extensive. It terrified her to think of the amount of strength he truly held in his body. "If you want to play a game, Abraham, you play it with me, and not anyone else!"

The man looked amused. "But they're part of the game, Aaron! We can't play without our toys, can we?" He strode to Emily then, blinking when the brunette curled away from him with a hiss, shielding the child. Her dark eyes flashed at him, and Abraham smiled.

"See, Aaron? The fight in her will always be stronger; the tenacity is what makes her dominant over the sweet pet there." He grasped Emily's collar, forcing her forward with a choke hold until the woman was inches from him. His grey eyes blazed maliciously at her as he ripped the child from her arms, passing the whimpering girl to one of his men before grasping Emily's jaw once more.

His breath was heavy and hot as he stared at Emily's face; the arousal was clear in his eyes as he trailed his eyes hungrily down her pale body. His hand spanned down to the straps of her dress, toying with the thin material idly before undressing her with the gentlest touch. "I'm sorry I can't be Aaron for you, sweet Emily," he said as Emily shuddered. "But don't worry - soon enough, you'll be purring at his caresses like a kitten."

"Maybe when you're six feet underground," Emily gritted, and threw her head back indignantly when one man came to bind her hands as well. She fussed and flexed her wrists, aggravated by the harsh leather and rusted metal clamps. Her eyes met Hotch's over Abraham's shoulder, and found the man glaring back with more black hate that she had ever seen in a man's eyes.

His eyes snapped away from Abraham's back to her face; it took a moment for the intensity to dim somewhat as he cast a speaking look at her.

_Don't antagonize him. Show him nothing._

The dress pooled at her feet, and his hands caressed her skin as he unfastened her bra as a lover would. He trailed it down her arms torturously slow as his eyes flashed with wicked pleasure at the look of disgust and shame on Emily's face - and the low pull of her brow that could not hide her conflict of emotions roiling inside her.

The humid air whispered on her bare skin; her nipples hardened despite herself, and her skin began to flush. Frantically she scrambled for a reason - the drugs he'd pumped her full of from before. It gave her an awareness of everything around her; what she touched, smelt, saw. She had taken LSD once when she was younger - it felt like she was on it all over again.

"Observe them, Aaron," Abraham said suddenly, as he stepped back towards the fuming man whose eyes were cast away from the nude women, glaring down at the floorboards as his cheeks scored pink from anger and embarrassment. The fair-haired man frowned at Hotch, almost pouting at the man's defiant disregard of the fine specimens before him. "Come now, Aaron - they're here for our pleasure. I'm afraid I'll have to punish all of you if you don't. They failed in pleasing you, and you, well - you failed to be a man."

He shrugged. The whip swayed softly on his belt. "Your choice."

Gritting his teeth with such strength it creaked his jaw, Hotch finally raised his blazing gaze to Emily and JJ. It burned in his chest to see them so exposed; the self-conscious mask of shame and fear on both their faces that he never wanted to see ever again. The bright pink flush of their cheeks - embarrassment from JJ and righteous indignation from Emily, it only served to please Abraham more.

A growl rose threateningly in Hotch's chest when Abraham began to pace them; leering at them like they were prized thoroughbreds to invest in. He hummed and crooned and caressed their skin, brushing his disgusting fingers along Emily's arm, chuckling at the goosebumps and smoothing his palm over her breast.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" he said, as his hand caressed the pebbling nipple of the brunette's breast. Emily writhed and bucked away from his touch, hissing at his face, but Abraham seemed only to delight in her fighting. "Nature dictates the dominant traits for us - the dominant pair to survive and carry on their bloodline."

He stepped back, turning to Hotch as the man snarled at him a vicious spew of swear words. "Look at them, Aaron, and tell me you don't see why Emily is such a finer creature than the whore."

"She has a name!" Emily spat, but the man reproached her with a simple lash of his whip across her hip.

JJ jumped and Hotch lunged for him, but even the man could not ignore what was before him. He couldn't help but notice - his mind was too sharp to dismiss the blatant differences in Emily and JJ's bodies. Naturally he had noticed before, but never in such detail.

Emily was taller, of course. She stood with a leaner build with more muscle as compared to the blonde's slighter, petite body. Her breasts were fuller, her hips flared only by that much more, but Hotch couldn't for the life of him understand why he thought it more alluring than JJ's slender build.

Haley was thin and petite too. It threw him to think that he was reacting to Emily as strongly as he was - she was the complete opposite of his ex-wife.

…And yet, wasn't that the point?

Abraham smiled as he observed the changes in the man's face. "Ah, yes. You see it too, don't you?" He touched Emily's hair, combing his fingers through it lovingly. "Such a fine creature, bred from the best stock possible, I'm assuming." He cupped her chin, stroking her jaw and running his finger along the side of her nose.

"Hitler had the right idea, you know," he said idly, grinning when she moved to recoil. His hand tightened on her jaw, nearly crushing it in his hold as she whimpered and yelped in pain. "You eliminate the strongest bloodlines to breed even stronger warriors. It's selective annihilation - you give the weaker ones a chance, and at the same time create a super-bloodline of unshakable warriors for the next generation."

Emily bore her teeth at him; tears pooled at the corner of her eye from the agony of his crushing grip. "You clearly failed history in high school," she muttered, and was unable to smother the sharp cry as he lashed his whip across her thighs again.

"You've made your point!" Hotch blustered then, and his restraints groaned in his roiling grip. "Let them go - they've done nothing to deserve this!"

Abraham seemed deaf to his thunderous words, and instead strode towards JJ with a languid smile and his whip limp in his hand. "You're a fine little whore too, Jennifer," he cooed, cupping her face. "Don't worry - I'll have use for you yet." He tilted her head this way and that, clucking his tongue disapprovingly as he ran his hands along her body.

"Blonde hair, blue eyes, petite figure - you're the pure definition of a Southern belle, aren't you?" He glanced at Hotch. "Do you like this sort of thing, Aaron? The type that'll lie nice and quiet under you like your wife used to?"

That was the final straw. With a ground trembling snarl, Hotch broke free from his captors, and barreled headlong into Abraham.

* * *

**Here's another warning for the next chapter: there be whipping and things and basically brace yourself.**


	5. i wrap myself inside your arms

**I don't know what warnings to put here.**

**Nudity? Violence?**

**Both?**

* * *

Emily screamed as they crashed into the table, splintering wood and scattering glass amidst the grunting snarls and violent swears. "Hotch!"

Abraham grunted as Hotch was hauled off of him, laughing breathlessly as he watched the man spew snarling words of hate at him. He wiped at his mouth, grinning viciously at the red that smeared across his palm before rising to his feet. His face was livid; his eyes blazed a mad gleam of hysterical anger as he stood to his feet.

"You're definitely a wild one, aren't you," he said, and brandished the whip in his hand once more. He stepped towards Hotch, forced down to his knees now by the four men gripping his collar.

Abraham stared down at the man, eyes flashing and teeth bloodied in a macabre grin as he tightened the leather whip in his hold and laughed. He struck the man with the back of his hand, reveling in the sharp thud of bone connecting to bone, and watched as the blood began to seep from Hotch's mouth once more.

"That's the first taste of your punishment, Aaron. You'll find yourself very intimately acquainted with the taste of your blood by the time I'm done with you." He stepped back, arm raised in a strike.

Hotch braced himself readily for the strike; the sharp and lingering burn of the whip on his skin that never came. His body thrummed from the rush of adrenaline - he could hear the blood pumping in his ears and taste the beating of his heart in his throat, but there was nothing to feel the rush for.

He stared at Abraham suspiciously when the man smiled down at him, and reeled back when Emily was forced down to her knees in front of him. His wide eyes darted from the woman to the man standing before her, and it came together in a sharp sense of dread as Emily stared at him mutely with her wide, terrified eyes. The open fear in her expressive eyes lanced through his chest like a flaming blade, and he thrashed like a pinned leopard. "Emily, no!"

"Bring the pet here for her Alpha to see clearly," Abraham ordered, and two men forced Emily forward by her collar. He glanced at JJ, where the woman stared in muted horror and smiled wickedly at her. "Bring the whore forward. It's time for her to serve her Master and her Alphas."

The chained man writhed and blustered as he watched JJ be forced to her knees in front of him, straining desperately in some way to cover both the women with his body - to shield them away from the vile men, but it was useless. Emily was forced to her knees beside him; her bare shoulder brushed the scuffed material of his shirt, and he found her gaze apprehensively.

"Watch," Abraham commanded them, as he began to pace behind JJ. The woman's arms were released, held instead by the two men like a crucification. They could see the muscles straining in her arms, the harsh line of her shoulders pulled tight in the merciless grasp of her captors as she struggled to keep the panic from welling in her throat.

Beside him he could feel Emily squirming uncomfortably at her restraints.

"As I've told you before, Aaron," Abraham said, running the tip along JJ's skin. He trailed it gently along her shoulders, down along her shoulder blades between the space over her spine - brushed against the rising goosebumps and frightened shudder it wrought. "Every lash I give you, I give them. In fact -." He swung the whip into his hand, the sharp hiss through the air forcing JJ to jolt.

"I think I'll double the numbers."

"No!" Emily erupted, wriggling hard enough to loosen the grip on her collar; the woman fell forward in a graceless heap at Abraham's feet, panting hard as she struggled to find her voice. She swallowed and it burned, but she forced her eyes up at the curious man and relinquished her pride.

"I'll take them for her," she said, and it surprised her at how steadily the words came. Inside her chest, her heart pounded viciously, clawing at her throat like a live demon struggling to free itself. Her hip stung still, throbbing in time with her heart as the skin smarted with every whispering breath of air that touched it.

She was already acquainted with the kiss of the whip.

JJ didn't need to know it too.

Abraham stepped back, staring down at the prone woman with something akin to a pleased, feral smile as his brow rose slowly on his forehead. His mouth curled into a feline grin. "Why, how noble of you, sweet Emily."

They hauled her to her knees, deaf to Hotch's roaring protests. Stepping to JJ, he grasped her chin tightly, forcing her face to his as he hissed at her. "Look at how weak they think of you, Jennifer. Hmm? Look at how weak they think their little whore is, that they have to protect you like a _child_." He shoved her aside, watched as she stumbled to the side before kicking her brutally in the stomach.

JJ's wailing scream tore through them like a tangible rip; Emily flinched as if she'd been whipped, and Hotch clenched his eyes shut tight to deny himself the sight of the blonde curled into a trembling ball in front of him.

"BRING HER HERE!" Abraham roared, and the men rushed to place Emily in JJ's place. The blonde was hauled away by the other men, and they watched helplessly as they disappeared through the doorway once more.

Forced to their knees, Emily and Hotch found themselves face to face.

Two men at his collar, two men at hers; so close together they could feel the heat of each other's breath on their mouths. Emily was shaking from the fear that had long overwhelmed her, the blind tears of fear welling in her eyes as she felt the cold air of the room whispering on the bare skin of her back.

"It's in your blood, Aaron. No matter how much you deny it," Abraham said, as he stood over Emily's back with an imperious smirk. "You sense the weak; you were born to protect them. Even in your team, _especially _so - I've seen the young boy. So thin and weak. Breaking him would be too easy." He stepped back, running his hand idly along Emily's spine and watching with delight as she shuddered. "Breaking _you _would be a pleasure."

"Keep your eyes on her, Aaron. I want you to see what being a defiant and reckless leader costs your team. Turn away, and I make sure I double the numbers."

Wide, terrified eyes stared into each other; deep hazel on soft brown as Hotch frantically sought a way to keep her from this. His mind reeled as it rushed to find an escape, an alternative to the punishment before him then - and hated himself when he could find no way to save them all.

"I'll take them all," he blurted desperately, straining hard against his bonds as Emily's mouth began to quiver. "I'll take them all! Just don't hurt her!"

"You forfeited the right to chivalry when you spilt my blood." The cold words filled them with a damning sense of doom, and Hotch lunged forward again just as the first strike hissed across Emily's back.

She crumbled forward with a grunt, writhing and shrinking away uselessly; the lash burned like fire across her back - so soft and sensitive was the skin there that every lash felt like hellfire. She was denied leverage or respite with the way they held her collar, she could barely scrape the floorboards with her fingernails as they forced her upright on her knees to bear the next lash.

"Emily," he choked, so close to sobbing by then as he saw the river of tears run down her reddening face. Her teeth left their mark on her lips, having been bitten hard to keep herself from crying out. He strained, oh how he strained against the leather and steel cuffs that bound his hands, but it was no use.

He was frozen in place by her tears and her screams.

Abraham smiled coldly, lifting his hand once more. "One."

"Leave her ALONE!" he howled, but the second lash came sharp and unforgiving. He flinched on instinct when Emily's face screwed into a mask of agony and more tears flowed, clamping his eyes shut for but a moment before he forced them open again - Abraham's threat rang clear in his mind as he stared up desperately at the man.

Abraham was grinning like an overeager child. "Four more lashes it is."

His heart sank into his stomach, his soul roiled in the agony of his guilt and shame. "NO!"

The scream was loud; the slap of the whip more vicious as Emily screamed from the very depths of her chest and sobbed openly then. Her entire body sang with oversensitized nerve endings, her back screamed and burned with an agony she couldn't remember ever experiencing - her vision was tunneling and flashing bright in intervals; she was so close to collapsing.

She knew she couldn't submit, she couldn't surrender.

But the choice was no longer hers.

"Turn away again, Aaron, and she'll bear the same mark as you do," Abraham warned him, and Hotch forced himself to stare with pained helplessness into Emily's agonized face.

It was hard to focus with the tears blinding in her eyes and the agony singing through her veins, but Emily could hear the ragged gasps of the man before her. Vaguely as she blinked, she could see his face; the mask of guilt and shame and pain that was quickly becoming a permanent sight.

Their eyes met; one haunted in grief and shame and guilt, and the other in pain and wavering strength.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her, and Emily felt it ache in her chest. She tried to smile, to him; for him, but it failed before she could even muster the lie.

_Crack_!

The next lash bore down harder against her skin; Emily screamed again and arched away from the biting lash only to have the men shove her down suddenly. She crumbled to her hands, and then to the ground in a shuddering ball of twitching nerves and smarting skin.

Abraham motioned to his men. "Unbind his hands." He eyed Hotch with a malicious pleasure as the man was forced to his feet in a confused rush. "Now it's your turn to hold her down, Aaron. If you're to master the bitch, you need to let her know who yields the strength to love her and punish her."

Hotch stared at him incredulously. "You're sick in the head."

"Do it," the fairer man snapped impatiently, as he hovered over Emily's prone figure menacingly. "Or I bend her over my desk and _show you_ how I punish my bitches." His flashing grey eyes told Hotch that he wanted nothing more than to do just that. He glanced at one of the men holding Emily pointedly. "Perhaps some incentive will help."

The child wailed as the man hauled her to him, whimpering weakly as he pressed the gun into her temple and forced her to stand between Hotch and Emily. Her watery eyes darted from man to woman, lingering most on Hotch as Emily struggled in her agony to reach for the girl.

"You either hold her or you whip her, Aaron," Abraham uttered sharply. "It's a very simple choice."

"Hotch..." Emily's strained voice pulled at his chest like a physical stab, and the man stared down brokenly at the woman. With great strength, she pushed herself up on her hands and raised her head to his gaze, staring at him heavily. There was a wall there behind her eyes; he'd seen it many times before. "It's okay."

He took her hands in his before he realized he'd moved, but Emily could only protest feebly as the man all but pulled her to his chest, crushing her there as gently as he could. His large hands were warm on her trembling skin, stroking along her arms and hips, as his voice whispered sweet nothings and endless apologies into her ear. He never touched her back, wouldn't dream of hurting her any more than he already had.

"I'm here," he promised her, and Emily couldn't help the urge of her battered body to lean gratefully into his broad chest. Her hands gripped at the taut muscles of his arms, clenched tight into his skin in a desperate attempt at channeling the pain elsewhere, and he took it willingly from her. "I'm right here, Emily."

The next lash sounded, twice as harsh and snapping viciously against Emily's skin that he could feel the lick of the leather against her bones. Emily collapsed into his body harder, swallowing the scream in her throat as he palmed the back of her neck, tucking her into his shoulder as she had with the child.

She surrendered into his embrace, pressing her face into his neck and inhaling desperately for the air that her lungs would not keep, and for the warming scent familiar to her in his skin. Damp heat and musk lingered under the sweat; vaguely the tendrils of his aftershave caught in her senses, and Emily sighed heavily into his skin.

She swallowed a gasping breath, trembling violently as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. Her wide eyes wept silently as she stared at the far shelf in the room, unseeing as her mind clung to every last murmuring word from his mouth. His mouth grazed the corner of her eyes - at first she thought it was a trick of the mind from the pain spreading across her body, but she felt the warmth of his breath there.

A whispering kiss from a dream.

One lash.

Her nails sank into his arm.

Another.

She cried out, and he pulled her closer; behind her his dark eyes and his soul would curse and damn the man wielding the whip to a violent, slow and painful death at his hands. The rusted smell of her blood was foul to his nose - he couldn't remember anything to roil his stomach as horribly as knowing that he was helpless as Emily bled before him.

She was bleeding _because _of him.

Abraham caught his blazing gaze and paused a moment, and then the man smiled sweetly at the kneeling man and held out the whip to him. "Would you like a try, Aaron?"

He laughed as Hotch shoved the whip away from his face, maniacal and gleeful as he watched the blood weep from the stripes across Emily's once-porcelain back. The red was almost garish against the paleness of her skin; smeared across the bony plane as she curled into the man fuming at him - like the weak and beaten bitch he expected of her.

Nudging Hotch in the leg, he held out the whip once more, insistent then. "Come on now, Aaron. Be a good sport and take a stab at it," he cajoled the man; the man holding the gun to the girl's head unlatched the safety. "Don't disappoint me."

"Haven't you done enough?" Hotch spat bitterly, though the fear in his eyes glistened in the yellow sunlight that filled the room. It was disturbing to the man - how the day was perfect and sunny and bright, and yet they were fighting for their lives at the hands of a madman. He wasn't sure if there would ever come a time where he would step into a bright summer's day and not hear the pained cries from Emily's mouth.

"You said I could choose, and I held her. I'm _holding _her," he rumbled defiantly, as Emily trembled in his arms from the shock and bloodshed. He could feel her skin under his fingers growing damp from the cold sweat of her body reacting to the whipping, and he pulled her in as tightly as he could without harming her further. "How much further do you think you can push us before we break? We die now, your plans are shot to hell right with us - then what? Another team? Another group of people to play God with?"

Abraham stared down at him with a cold silence, his mouth was curled into a thin line as his eyes blazed dangerously over his dark face. There was an almost detached gleam in his eyes, as if he was far away in a corner of his mind - no doubt conjuring more wicked things to do to Emily just to punish the Unit Chief. He inhaled sharply suddenly, startling them both as Hotch turned Emily away from him and glared at Abraham still.

"Get up and take the whip, or I shoot them both," Abraham uttered flatly, as he held out the whip to Hotch and gestured for him to move. His eyes flared impatiently; his mouth pinched as the man continued to stare incredulously at him. Curling into a scowl, his mouth twisted his face into an ugly, ghoulish mask.

"TAKE THE FUCKING WHIP!" he roared, and the room trembled.

He rose on a knee then, snatching the whip from Abraham out of shock more than anything else. Anything to get the damn thing out of Abraham's hand and away from Emily. He pulled the whip to his chest, where Emily flinched as it brushed against her arm. He paused then, staring uncertainly between Emily and Abraham - and where the men were poised waiting for the signal to unload their guns into their heads.

There was a pinch on his arm - Emily's strained voice whispering into his neck. "Just do it," she mumbled, through the heavy and shallow breaths. Stretching the skin was torture; clotting blood and frantically healing flesh tore open with deep breaths; she wasn't sure if the dizziness came from the blood loss or the adrenaline. "Get it over with."

"You don't know what you're saying; you've lost too much blood," he countered harshly, and he pressed her to him as if he could force the pain from her being into his. He pulled back to stare down at Emily stubbornly, his dark eyes whirling at the weakened woman as she stared flatly into his face. His brows were soft though his eyes burned; from tears and from the defiant rejection of ever needing to harm her in any way. "I will _not _hurt you, Emily. For any reason."

Emily hesitated, and he felt his heart clench and his stomach turned leaden. Slowly he lowered his head down to her ear, nudging her gently as his uncertain eyes now searched her face desperately. "You know that, don't you?" he asked her quietly.

It terrified him more to think that Emily doubted his vow more than Abraham did.

She licked the corner of her lip, tasted the blood and tears that lingered there. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye, and so she didn't - instead she pushed him away slowly, nodding as she stared at the third button of his dusty dress shirt. "Of course," she whispered hollowly, and turned away to present her back to him.

_One more, and it was over. The sooner he obeyed, the sooner the agony would end, and she could retreat into herself again where it was safe and quiet and warm._

Abraham cackled gleefully, doubling over to slap his knee as he watched Emily stare placidly at the floor and Hotch stare after her as if he'd be struck across the face. He couldn't have asked for a better pair to breed - such fine bone structure was merely a bonus. It was the tenacity that bred the strongest offspring, and he'd seen no stronger than the two before him.

"She's a fast learner, isn't she, Aaron?" he said, as the man was forced to his feet by his men. "Fast learners make the best females to breed - the best mates to keep in bed because they're quick to learn to please you." He stepped towards the man, still stunned and reeling from the woman's submission and smiled over Hotch's shoulder as he stared down at the criss-cross of lashes over Emily's back.

"It won't hurt as much as you think," he whispered soothingly, as Hotch stared at the hand that gripped the whip in a white-knuckled grasp, and then Emily's back. "You'll be surprised at how fast you take to the whip, Aaron." He slid his hand along the powerful muscles of the dark-haired man's shoulders, caressing the skin almost sensually. "It brings to life a certain..._skill _in you that you never knew you had."

He squeezed the taut muscle of Hotch's arm, tempting him. "Go on, Aaron. You know you want to."

The leather creaked in his hold, his grip shaking from the force as he struggled to calm himself. The bowed back of the woman at his feet; he couldn't count the lashes, for they were too many. Each wept the red tears of Emily's precious blood - the blood on his hands.

Shaking, the whip raised over his head.

* * *

**Don't worry - they'll...reconcile eventually.**


	6. inside your arms i cannot rest

**Warning for implied things and derogatory terms used on peoples. Mildly graphic descriptions of um...gore? Not really, just whipping.**

* * *

The strike was faster than she could register.

There had always been something so superhuman about him; he was freakishly strong, freakishly fast - freakishly powerful. The amount of strength he held hidden beneath his flattering suits and guarded eyes had always had her trembling at the thought of their depth, but she could never imagine him moving with such unadulterated power.

He moved like lightning, but even then….

Abraham was faster.

"Now Aaron," he chided mockingly; his grip on the whip shook – Hotch strained and bore down, but the brute strength was futile.

Whatever Abraham was, he wasn't human.

The man's smile was condescending and steeped in ferocious glee. He tilted his head, a frightening feline smile curving his thin mouth as he set his cold grey eyes on the man. "Did you really think I would release you unto her so freely?" He tugged downwards roughly, and in his startled momentum forward, Hotch crumbled to his knees once more. Abraham stepped back as the men crowded over the brunette man once more, forcing him down as they did with JJ – a crucifixion waiting to happen. The whip dangled in his hand, a seemingly harmless scrap of leather in the hands of a sadistic madman.

Emily had turned over by then, restrained by the men once more, but too weak to fight. Her back stung and burned like hellfire; she barely had enough blood to spare to begin with. "Hotch…." Her weak plea evoked a vicious fight in the man's bones, but the muscles of his body were worn and their opponents bulging with strength.

He sank back, sagging almost – but bore his teeth and snarled as Abraham ripped his shirt from his body. "Give a man an inch and he'll take a mile. Isn't that how the saying goes, Aaron?" Bare now from the waist up, his scars delighted Abraham; each white jagged line marked the places George Foyet had laid the steel blade of his knife, like the caresses of a lover passed. He cooed, stroking the tips of his fingers against the writhing man's chest, watching like a starved hawk as Hotch's skin bristled in gooseflesh.

"Such lovely artwork," he sighed. It's a horrifying sense of envy and awe…and competition. In his hand, he stroked his leather weapon; nothing compared to the silver blade before him. Every stroke had to count.

"I'll be sure to honor his masterpiece."

The scream shook the room, came from the very depths of Emily's soul as she watched the first lash split skin. It parted like butter under a hot knife; passed through muscles and tendons and tissue and bled red down his chest. The pink and white of flesh and sinew was garish on his body, and the man writhed in an indescribable agony as the whip came down again.

"STOP IT!" Emily screamed, a sudden surge of strength overcame her shaking limbs; the bitter taste of fear and horror on her tongue and in her throat as she watched the blood seep down his chest like rain from the fresh wound. Her own chest ached, almost stronger than her own wounded back - the sound of the whip to flesh was sickening and vivid.

Abraham laughed, loud and cackling in utter bliss as he stared down at the man at his feet and the struggling woman beside him. "Look at your man, sweet Emily. He's quite a beast, isn't he? So _strong _-." One lash ripped across his ribs; the skin gaped like a gory smile.

"So _fierce_." He laid another lash over it.

"Stop, PLEASE!"

Desperately she searched for his face, watching frantically as the bound man bellowed to the ceiling as Abraham laid his claim over those of the Reaper. She strained to reach for him in any way she could; her own blood painted across the floorboards as her struggling ripped her wound agape, but Emily could see and hear nothing but the torture Hotch was enduring.

All because of her.

Three slices.

Four.

"ENOUGH!" she begged, and Abraham watched as she began to recoil physically - as if the wounds bled her and not the Alpha male groaning breathlessly. The agony on her face was clear; the pain and guilt that filled her wide dark eyes gleamed on her face with the stains of her tears. Her chest heaved, each breath stuttered, and for a moment Emily thought she was going to collapse from the roiling emotions and agony she was in.

Another futile glance at Hotch told her the man was fighting the darkness just the same.

The color was gone from his face, nothing but cold sweat and agony contorting on his face like a gruesome mask. Every breath shook; breathing any deeper tore skin the same as Emily's wounds, and the man's breath was low and ragged as he crumbled backwards with the next lash splitting his skin.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Hotch's pained grunts and howls were talons on a chalkboard to Emily. She turned her head away desperately, sobbing hard as her mind reeled at something - some way to get Abraham's attention away from her Unit Chief and back onto her.

Anything to keep him from flaying Hotch alive.

Abraham's arm raised again, and her time was up.

Her heart clenched; stone in her chest as she blurted the words before she could register them.

"_I'll give you a son!"_

* * *

The silence was suffocating, and so were they.

The collars pulled tight; their breaths wheezed like Death in their lungs as Abraham regarded them carefully. His grey eyes lingered curiously on Emily as she stared hard at his feet, but he could see the resignation in her dark eyes then. Slowly they narrowed, and the floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he stepped away from Hotch at last, to Emily's relief.

The steps thudded to the beat of her heart as he approached her.

_Thud…._

_Thud…._

_Thud._

The damp leather slipped under her chin, wet with blood and reeking of rust and cured animal hide - a nauseating scent she would blanch at in memory. For now she swallowed the bile bitter in her throat and forced her red-rimmed eyes up at the man staring down at her with intrigue.

"I didn't hear you there, Emily darling," Abraham leered; the whip slid against her chin and neck, marked in Aaron's blood. The tears in her eyes were genuine - the pain clearly for the man so earnestly he could laugh at how easy it was to break her. "Say it again, just so the rest of us can hear it clearer."

Her jaw trembled and her eyes began to gleam brighter with a fresh onslaught of tears, but Emily sucked in a hot breath and forced herself to meet Abraham's cold grey eyes as she gritted the words.

"_I will give you…a son." _Her eyes flickered to Hotch with an unreadable glaze. "Please just stop hurting him."

The whip recoiled from under her chin suddenly, and Emily flinched at the sudden movement as Abraham began moving about the room, as pleased as he could be. Hotch groaned and grunted breathlessly beside her; the room stank of blood and sweat and fear - and desperation.

She shifted, and their eyes locked for a long, speaking moment. His hazel eyes; pained as they were, blazed incredulously at her - how could she put herself in such a situation with their UnSub? How could she have submitted?

"A fair warning, sweet Emily," Abraham's voice came, and he re-appeared before them with yet another syringe gun in his hand; stunning them both as he began to lower himself slowly onto his knees before Emily. He smiled cruelly when she recoiled instinctively, but the man caressed the back of her neck once more and guided her to his embrace.

She could smell the acrid stench of his aftershave mingling with the smell of Hotch's blood; they were sharing the same breath. His mouth grazed her ear again, an intimate whisper of a cold threat. "_I can smell a lie before you think to breathe it_."

The cold steel plunged into her neck and she gasped, before the world began to spin…

…and fade to black.

* * *

Somewhere beyond the walls around them, the swelling heat of the day burned into the backs of their teammates. Bound and chained like dogs, the rest of the BAU dripped in sweat as they bent hunched over and straining under the leather and metal straps forcing them in place.

In the dry air, the crack of the whip lashed like a whisper of ripping paper.

"Pull!"

Morgan grunted as he threw his weight forward, bearing his teeth as the leather bit into his chest but did nothing else. Sweat dripped down his face, glistened on his body as the groaning metal beast behind him rolled agonizingly slow in response.

It was to their warden's sadistic pleasure as they heaved the abandoned and battered SUV like horses tied to a farming plow; even JJ struggled desperately to seek leverage against the heavy vehicle - screaming as the kiss of the whip struck across her ankles.

"Take the whore back to the women!" one of them barked, kicking JJ to the ground as he whipped her again for good measure. Sneering down at the whimpering blonde, he forced his boot into her stomach, turning her over as she curled into protective ball. "We have no use for worthless bitches out in the field!"

There was a booming snarl to his right, but the warden stepped back just as Morgan reached the end of his chains and lunged forward like a bloodthirsty bear. He hissed at the brawny man like an irritable cat, unleashing his whip onto Morgan with a relish. "Best back off now, young buck. There are no heroes out here, you understand? Only hardworking men and beasts." He lashed the whip across Morgan again, and kicked the man into the dirt.

"Now get back up and pull before I put my whip on that pretty little whore of yours and show her a real good time."

Reid dropped to his knees beside JJ, flinching when the warden turned to him, but kept his gaze down as he gingerly helped the blonde to her feet. "Just get up and go with them," he murmured to her quietly, and JJ could feel the clammy skin of his palm resting on her shoulder. His eyes found hers speakingly, as two men came forward. "Don't fight them; you might go to Emily."

"Back, Junior!" Reid jumped back, cowering submissively as he fell back into rank behind the SUV. "See now, that's a mighty good boy there, ain't you Junior?" The younger man turned away from the derisive laughter, staring at the dry ground beneath his feet as his cheeks flamed under his shaggy hair. "Daddy trained you real good, didn't he?"

The whip cracked again - on air then, but it was enough to startle them into movement. "Get along, little doggies, and you might get to eat something."

* * *

She jolted awake with a gasp on her breath and her heart threatening to split her chest open. Her hands clenched into the material she laid on; soaked clean through with her sweat - they were sheets. Her ears rang and her eyes couldn't focus, and Emily's head felt like it was bolted to the scratchy pillow that she was presently resting on.

The cool whisper of the air made her shiver - she was nude.

On her side, she found herself staring at a bare and white wall across from her; the springs of the bed creaked and dug into her side, so threadbare it was. Carefully, slowly, she struggled upright, gasping quietly as her back protested strongly at the movement.

Her instinct was to arch away from the pain, but Emily sank her teeth into her lip and forced herself steady as she sucked in a low and calming breath.

_Easy, Em. Breathe easy._

She exhaled heavily, the stale taste of her tongue made her throat ache, but Emily forced herself upright on the side of the bed, slouched over in pain. Her hands gripped the bed's edge hard enough to creak, and she sat there in the silence - absorbing the surroundings before her with strangely keen senses.

Motionless, the pounding of her head amplified the sharp range of her ears; she could hear the noises from beyond the walls, the faint creak and groan of the bed and mattress springs beneath her and the sound of heavy breathing from somewhere within the room. It was rasping and deep - the hairs on the back of her neck prickled as the chill travelled down her spin; the breathing came from behind her.

The smell of old blood and something sharp - medicinal permeated the sheets, she could smell it on her skin. Her body throbbed a bone-deep ache; bruises marked her skin dark and frightening on her upper arms and wrists. She glanced down at her body, shifting her hips but a fraction of a movement before gasping at the sharp jolt of pain that shot along her groin and thighs.

What little color left on her face was gone then, as Emily parted her thighs with terrifyingly slow fear. Stains of blood and fluids dried over her thighs, and her eyes snapped wide as the cold hand of dread and realization grasped the root of her spine and held it firmly in its vicious palm.

"_Emily…?"_

* * *

**Don't worry - we'll have more focus on the others in the next chapter. Something to bear in mind though - things are escalating a lot quicker than I had planned, so hold onto your hats!**


	7. the beast you've made of me

**This took way too long to write and it isn't even GRAPHIC yet.**

* * *

_**Previously**:_

_What little color left on her face was gone then, as Emily parted her thighs with terrifyingly slow fear. Stains of blood and fluids dried over her thighs, and her eyes snapped wide as the cold hand of dread and realization grasped the root of her spine and held it firmly in its vicious palm._

_"__Emily…?"_

* * *

She gasped at the voice, the heavy shift of the bed as the man moved towards her. Instincts ran rampant; wrapped in the thin and damp sheets, she rolled away and off the bed – away from the man. It was a foolish move in her condition; Emily felt the harsh jolt of pain flare like lightning over her body, but the woman sank her teeth into her tongue and braced the pain. Her body thrummed like a livewire with a cacophony of bruises and aches, and Emily could not stop her eyes from watering at the pain as she stared up at the looming figure.

He leaned over the edge of the bed, frowning down worriedly at the woman bundled in the bloodied sheets; the battered form of a fighter that he couldn't possibly bear to see ever again. Despite the own aches of his body, Hotch reached down to Emily. "Are you alright…?"

Reaching down stretched the skin of his chest and he could smell the fresh rust of his blood, but none of it stung more than the horror and shame he saw flash across Emily's face as he reached for her. He recoiled on instinct, hurt and confused, but the man swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and reached for the woman again, gently then. "Emily, it's alright," he soothed her quietly, sliding closer to the woman. "It's just me. It's okay."

Tentatively, warily, the woman reached out for the man's outstretched hand, staring into his face with such open trust and fear it threw him. She looked so _young_. So lost – how could he have brought this unto them? The hand grasping the sheets to her chest was white-knuckled and shaking; the hand gripping his in a deathly embrace almost hurt, but the man pulled her to him gently without a word. Wrapping his arm carefully around the woman's bruised body, Hotch sighed heavily in his chest as Emily trembled in his hold; he couldn't pull her any closer without hurting them both.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, and the words caught in his throat as Emily reached up uncertainly to grasp the broad lines of his shoulders. Desperately she sought more contact; more reassurance in the presence and warmth of her Unit Chief – but every touch and every move warned her against attempting anything of the sort. Every breath shook from her own roiling emotions, and Emily pressed her mouth to the hard line of his shoulder, for nothing more than to feel something more than the agony she was in.

Touching his skin, she took a breath to steady herself – to breathe in the scent of what used to be familiarity and safety. It was hidden, deeply buried beneath the sweat and blood and lord knows what else they'd both been lying in up to that point, but it was there. Only –

_Hands shoving her down onto the bed, pushing her face into the sheets and forcing her hips up to him…_

_The bruising span of his powerful hands gripping at her waist as his hips pressed against her greedily…the harsh rutting of his hips as he took her from behind, deaf to her screams and whimpering moans for mercy…._

_The guttural growl of her name on his lips as he emptied himself inside her…._

There was a frightening gasp from her lips, a look of utter horror and disbelief in her wide eyes as she recoiled away from the man, scrabbling across the bed out of his reach. He called to her worriedly, reached out for her again, but Emily snatched her hands away, curling into herself until the man froze then; sat back on his haunches with an injured and confused frown on his face. Bile rose hot in her throat, threatening to spill; the bitter taste of realization and horror and disgust that came with it lingered permanently in her mouth as her heart forced itself into her stomach.

"It was you," she choked, gasping as the words refused to acknowledge themselves – refused to become the truth. She blanched as more memories came then; she reached out and touched her neck where it met her shoulder and flinched. His teeth were as sharp and vicious as his thrusts had been. She couldn't see it – she didn't want to see, nor did she need to see it to know it would mark her. The tears fell blindly down her face; she was so numb at that point, she could barely register them filling her eyes and then rolling down her streaked face.

_How could he -? How __**dare**__ he -!?_

She curled into a ball, as tightly as she could without reopening her wounds, hugging her knees as she began to convulse in her sobs. "It was you," she whispered, and it was broken and defeated. When Abraham had spoken of a son, she didn't understand exactly how…but it was clear to her now.

"Emily, what…?" Hotch stared at her, panic and concern rising higher as the woman whimpered at his voice and curled away from him further. He couldn't understand – it _was _him, he _was _the man she knew, and trusted and worked with. What was she going on about?

The glare she cast upon him couldn't possibly scathe him any deeper; he'd never seen such spite and cold disgust in her eyes when she looked at him. It was as if he'd been flayed once more, deeper and more profoundly than any tangible whip could hurt him – he was terrified to think of what Abraham could have possibly done to her to have made her loathe him so passionately then. He moved, and it was then something felt strange; the thin material of the sheets rubbing against his bare skin brought the reality forward in his muddled mind.

He was naked, and so was she.

The lump in his throat refused to budge as he swallowed thickly, lifting the sheets slowly with a trembling hand before swearing in horror at the sight of the fluids and tint of blood there. The realization washed over him like the burning plunge of a blade; Hotch paled as he recoiled his hand from the sheets like they were aflame, staring down at his hands in horror and disgust – the hands that had placed those bruises on her hips and her shoulders.

His hazel eyes were hysterical and wide as they turned back to her, demanding an explanation, beseeching Emily for forgiveness for the acts that he had done. "I – I don't remember -." There was nothing he could remember beyond watching Abraham sedate Emily; he'd fought and snarled and spewed all things vile at the grey-eyed man for it, but beyond that, it was a blur of memories and dreams and nightmares. Pained, so horribly pained and terrified, his eyes searched Emily's frantically, but she offered him nothing but hate. "Emily, please I -."

"_Ah. So the lovers wake."_

* * *

To say that he was hungry would be an understatement if there ever was one. Hours in the sun; back-breaking weights and leathers attached to his body like a goddamn shire horse, bringing their SUVs back to the village – all to the snaps of their whips and the men's jeering. Morgan growled in his throat as he shoved another mouthful of meat between his teeth and ripped the flesh from bone like a dog – manners tossed aside as he rushed to soothe the groaning ache in his stomach. His back stung with blood and sweat, tender and raw where the leather and chains had chafed his skin and where the whips had lashed across.

He scowled as he chewed, washing the gamey meat down with a hearty gulp of water. Bitterly and guiltily his mind wandered to the people sitting around the floor with him; _beasts _never ate at the table, apparently. Morgan's dark eyes found Reid first, and softened immediately at the quiet way the scrawny boy picked and peeled at his food. He could tell by the way Reid sat that he ached viciously – this was probably the most intense amount of strain he'd put on his body since…Tobias. He watched silently as Reid flinched every time he moved an arm; he hadn't been spared of the whip.

None of them had.

"Morgan."

He grunted, turning his dark gaze to Rossi. The older man seemed troubled, his mouth pulled into a tight frown as he pushed his empty plate aside. "You okay?" He could practically see the steam rising from the burly man's shoulders and ears; the anger that radiated off him unsettled Reid, and it seemed that their captors were beginning to notice as well. Rossi narrowed his eyes sharply when Morgan cast a withering glare at the men standing about in the shade, bearing his teeth when they laughed and jeered at him.

"Sore," Morgan growled, and that was the only response he gave Rossi before there was the sounds of footsteps and trailing whips against the sand. He swallowed the last of his meal, hoping it would last him till whenever they decided to feed them again, and rose to his feet as one of them stepped forward with his leash in hand.

"_Come on, young buck. Master wants a word with all of you. You be good and we'll see if you get your pretty little whore back_."

"What'd you do to her?" Rossi demanded, but put up no other fight as he was bound by his hands once more.

One of the men smirked from the corner of his mouth, and spared him a glance. "Nothing that'll scar, I promise."

* * *

Abraham smiled wickedly. "Enjoyed yourselves, I hope?" He laughed as Emily scrambled away from him, cornering herself away from Hotch as the man rose from the bed and moved towards her protectively. He clicked his tongue at the man when Hotch snarled at him, raising an eyebrow pointedly at his nude form. "Now Aaron, that's no way to thank me for what I delivered to you. She was better than you could've possibly dreamed of, wasn't she?"

His grin widened; his eyes gleamed maliciously at the muted horror in their eyes. Stepping towards Emily, he crouched to her level, smiling sweetly at the woman as she glared him into a long and painful death. "You offered to bear me a son, Emily," he reminded her, shrugging as he rose to his feet. "I just never said who would father him for me." Abraham paced the room, watching indifferently as his men forced Emily and Hotch to their feet, manhandling the pair roughly until they were bare and kneeling at his feet.

"You'll pay for this!" Hotch spat at him, straining desperately to unleash his fury onto the man, but the collar was brutal and his wounds sore. His heart thudded in his chest so hard he thought it would burst forward; filled with nothing but crippling guilt and sheer loathing as Abraham stepped forward and slipped his fingers into Emily's hair. His stomach lurched when Abraham forced her head backwards, deaf to the pained gasp in Emily's throat as his fingers tightened in her hair and the angle narrowed her airway.

Abraham hummed curiously as he trailed his fingers along the taut line of her neck, skimming her throat and frowning if somewhat irritably when he failed to find what he was looking for there. He shoved Emily downwards, forcing the woman onto her wounded back and grinning at the agonized cry. "I see your Alpha likes to bruise," he sneered, and forced her thighs apart, inspecting her cruelly while she thrashed and screamed in revolt. "You modern women and your birth control," he chided her, squeezing her knee in warning before releasing her. "I'll have to increase the hormone dosage to get his seed to take. You've ruined nature's masterpiece with your pills and medication." His lips curled in disgust as Emily huddled into herself, shaking in shame as Hotch swore and spat at him violently from beside her.

It was clear that they'd coupled, and it pleased him to see the amount of damage Aaron's hands and mouth had done to the woman, but Abraham knew it would take more to breed her. He scowled down at Emily and then at Hotch, backhanding the man across the face as he lunged forward. "You're not trying hard enough, Aaron," he told the man harshly, and slammed his steel-toed boot into Hotch's gut. "Perhaps I should remind you what the consequences are should you fail to produce a son for me."

"I would never hurt her!" Hotch roared, spitting blood at the man's feet as he struggled to his knees. His breathing was ragged and hoarse; his lungs and muscles seizing wildly as he struggled to breathe. Black hate roiled in his eyes as he glared up at Abraham with all the loathing he could muster – for everything he'd been forced to do. "This was your doing!" he spat accusingly, glaring when Abraham shrugged. "You – you forced me to take her. You forced me to _rape _her! I would never lay a finger on Emily -."

"I unleashed what you kept so deeply hidden inside you!" Abraham snapped, done with his patience and full of his temper then. His grey eyes blazed at them almost hysterically, mad with power and rage and barely hidden frustration as he backhanded Hotch across his face once more. "You think too highly of yourself, Aaron. Your high and mighty opinions and your virtuous conscience – you think I don't see what hides behind those blazing eyes of yours?" He leaned in close, cold grey bleeding into black spite as he smirked mockingly at the bleeding man.

"You think I don't see the _lust _and aggression bubbling beneath the surface of your façade?" he whispered, pulling away with a smirk as Hotch gnashed his teeth at him defiantly. He whirled upon Emily then, smiling coldly as the woman stared up at him with a stubborn set in her jaw – though behind her wide eyes he could see the barriers crumbling already. "Would you like an example of your beloved superior's strengths, sweet Emily? Hmm? What that encounter not enough for you?" He grinned viciously then when Emily flinched. "You see, sweet Emily. Aaron was right."

She stared at him wordlessly, incredulously.

Abraham's eyes narrowed with wicked glee. "He's my pet now." A remote appeared in his hand. "He does what I say, and I say…." He turned to Hotch with a grin. "_Breed_."

* * *

**Warning: the next chapter is going to be GRAPHIC.**


	8. my fingers claw your skin

**I highly anticipate being flagged for this.**

**WARNING FOR VIOLENCE AND MATURE CONTENT.**

**I'm not kidding around.**

* * *

It was as if a switch had been flipped.

The tremors shook him from teeth to toes, his skin flushed a frightening shade as the blood began to pump and rise and his body began to flame hot from the inside. She watched, pinned and helpless and horrified as he began to writhe against his bonds; fighting whatever it was inside him that Abraham had put there. She fought, by god, she fought with every last ounce of strength she had left inside her - if not to escape Abraham's vile clutches, then to at least escape what he was planning of having Hotch do.

If she could save herself, she could save them both.

"Look at her, practically beggin' for it," one of them leered, snorting derisively as Emily glared at him witheringly. "Writhin' around like she can't wait."

_Soon_, she promised herself, as her wrists twisted and turned and coiled around for leverage in her bindings. _Soon you can shove your Glock in their mouths and make them beg for mercy. Right now, just focus on getting Hotch back to normal._

"Hotch," she called sharply, urgently as the man began to tremble violently. It was as if he'd been roboticized; his movements rough and jerking - no longer fluid and human, combined with the terrifying strength of a beast. "Hotch, you have to fight this so we can get to the others -."

Her only response was the sharp connecting of Abraham's hand across her face. "Be a good whore and be quiet, won't you, Emily." He sneered at her. "That mouth is better used for different purposes."

"Em - Emily," the ragged voice was jarring to them both; she watched as his face morphed from a terrifying myriad of masks - agony, anger, fear, hate, lust; everything he'd fought to keep buried inside himself was bubbling to the top and he couldn't do a single thing to stop it.

Blood spilled down his chin, so deep and so viciously he'd sunk his teeth into his flesh as his eyes flashed and his body writhed. He was fighting it, she could see the frantic desperation in his eyes and body as he struggled in vain to fight whatever it was inside him - to no effect.

At last he gave a strangled cry and slumped forward in a heap, body heaving with every ragged breath he breathed.

Her breath shook as she curled away further, staring anxiously at the man's prone figure. His body was practically steaming from the heat radiating off him. "Hotch -."

Emily couldn't stifle the squeak of fright in her throat when the man gave a trembling roar; the muscles on his shoulders gathered, and there was a rippling crack of sound as the man ripped his way through his bindings. He rose on staggering feet as the men around him stepped back warily, his breath came snorting like a bull, and his eyes glowed obsidian when he lifted them to burn into her face.

His eyes narrowed on her, practically foaming at the mouth as his eyes roved her naked body hungrily. A frightening rumble ripped from his throat, and the man lunged forward. "_Mine!_"

The scream ripped through the room in a soul-shaking tremble as Emily found herself mauled by the savage beast. She writhed and kicked and sobbed for mercy as his hands snapped her bindings like paper and his mouth descended upon her neck. She bucked her hips, thrashed and howled as his teeth sank into her skin, biting deep enough to bleed from her neck as his hands went from her wrists to her breasts and waist and thighs with bruising impatience.

"Stop, please!" she pleaded, and Emily could feel the burn of the bile searing through her throat the very same way the tears were blinding her. Her body thrummed with every agony imaginable; the scrape of the floorboards under her, the greedy fingers gripping her flesh, the rough chafing of his leather bindings rubbing her raw - it was Hell reincarnated. She threw her head back and screamed as he tangled his hand into her hair and yanked her head backwards.

"_Mine_!" he snarled, and that seemed to be the only coherent thought he could comprehend. The lust-blinded man forced her around, spinning her forcefully by her hips onto her knees. The grating sound of metal and leather scraping against skin fell to deaf ears as he groaned at the sight of Emily's battered back, palming the bloodstained skin roughly, uncaring for the way Emily gasped and flinched and arched desperately away from his touch. Her blood wept onto his hand, and he smeared it childishly along her hips, spanning upwards in the rust-scented warmth and cupping her breasts in his hands.

Emily shuddered as he pressed his face into her hair, inhaling hungrily as he palmed and pinched at her breast painfully. Tears stained her face, she could barely breathe from the horrible pressure building in her chest - she couldn't open her mouth because she couldn't risk screaming for mercy if she did.

She could feel him between her legs, hard and hot and throbbing - clamping her thighs shut stubbornly; defiantly. It sickened her to no end. It wasn't simply the act that he was doing to her; it was knowing that he was going to wake up next to her again and realize that he had been the one to hurt her again and again and again - all to please Abraham.

His new Master.

She whimpered as he pulled her backwards into him harshly, jolting in his hold as he held her hips in his large hands and ground himself against her. Her head hung low, shielded beneath her dark curtain of hair as the tears dripped onto the floorboard under her; flinching as she felt his hand between her legs, stroking and probing impatiently. Her skin was tender still, chafed and raw; it took every great ounce of control for her not to have her muscles twitch and flinch at his touch.

It made no difference to him. He felt the remnants of his own fluids there - it would have to do.

Grunting brutishly he fisted himself in his hand, stroking himself to size before aligning himself at her core. With one fierce lunge, he forced himself inside her, his triumphant roar drowned out only by the shattering sound of Emily's scream of agony.

It was as if he'd ripped her in half, the pain was blinding, brutal, burning - oh _God_ make it stop! She recoiled into herself, trying desperately to alleviate the torture by tucking herself into a ball, to pull away from him. But his grip was already bruising on her hips; the harder she clawed and crawled away from him, the fiercer the burn.

She ripped at the floorboards with her nails, drawing blood, splitting skin and ripping nails as she fought in vain. She could feel the blood coating her thighs, taste it in the air as she screamed and begged for him to stop. She arched her back, gasping for breath as he rutted his hips forward brutally, sobbing as he began to pound inside her like a rabid beast.

"Aaron, please!" she gasped helplessly, whimpering deep in her throat as he jolted her half across the floor with every violent thrust. He had one hand wrapped inside her hair still, and Emily felt her eyes slip shut and another scream in her throat as he pulled hard. Her back bowed and her head fell back, and he buried himself deeper inside her.

Her hands fell desperately to his by her hip, sinking her bloodied nails into his skin - but he felt none of it. All he could see was red and white and black - her skin, her hair, her blood. All he could taste was her skin, her fear, her pheromones on his tongue like some kind of drug that had him reeling.

All he could feel was her tight walls hugging his cock like a velvet glove. Every buck of her hips, every writhe of her body only served to drive him deeper into the dizzying haze of lust; push him further to his goal of breeding her. He gave a heaving grunt as he forced her head down, angling her body higher against his and pressing deeper inside her. Almost too deep.

In a rush he had forced her backwards onto him, by her hair, by her hips; he forced her onto her knees until her hands could no longer touch anything but flesh, and her hands fell into where his fingers curled into her hair - tightening over her scalp. One arm he banded around her thin waist, flexed and weighted like lead with enough strength to bruise if it hadn't already.

His breath was hot and stifling on her neck, her ear, her cheek; buried in her hair and pressed into her shoulder where his teeth scraped her skin and his mouth peppered the sharp arch of her shoulder blade with burning kisses. It disgusted her to think that even such a vile act could rouse such an intimate part of his mind - that inside his brain somewhere, forcing himself inside her warranted kisses a lover could press on her flesh.

Whether it was an apology or a promise; perhaps an act of mourning for what could have been.

What did it matter then.

Abraham clucked his tongue in disapproval - she'd forgotten about him in the blinding storm of torment. Her eyes flashed wide and fell into a narrow slit of both agony and spite as she saw him there in the corner of her eye, watching them like a spectator sport. He had his head tilted down at them, watching curiously and lecherously as her body arched and flexed and bloomed in various shades of red, blue and black under his command.

A morbid canvas of blood and bruises - the red imprints of Aaron's hands on her breasts, her thighs, her hips like brands over the deep purple and black of the welts and bruises.

But not quite a masterpiece yet.

"Aaron, you're too gentle," he chided the man, but Hotch was deaf to his mocking; grunting with effort as he sought only one goal and one goal alone.

An end.

The snap of the whip jolted Emily, though it fell not to her, and she felt Hotch grunt behind her before his thrusting hips began to double in effort and pace. His hand spanned wide on her hip, gripping tighter at the curve of her body as his free hand released her hair and came instead to palm her breast roughly. She whimpered and writhed away at his brutal touch, the pinch too sharp, the ache too strong on her already singing skin to bear.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand the torture.

"Harder, Aaron," Abraham snapped. "Take her harder. Prove to me _and _to sweet Emily that you are the Alpha we expect of you."

"Don't," she whispered urgently, the desperate plea was almost defeated; she wasn't even sure if he knew who she was at that moment. He couldn't have possibly - but perhaps that was simply wishful thinking. "You don't have to prove _anything_, Hotch, please -."

The snap of the whip sounded again, and this time Emily felt the sting of its kiss across her breasts and midriff. She recoiled into Hotch's thrusting body, gasping in a scream as his hand rose to her neck and squeezed. Her eyes flew wide as she sputtered, clawing hopelessly at his hand where his fingers tightened over her collar - bruising into her windpipe.

"Hotch -," she rasped, choking on her breath and gasping as her vision began to cloud. Something was changing; a heady weight grew stronger - was it the deprivation, she couldn't tell. Her body began to pulse, the heat of his body and hers and the agonizing friction flared slowly along her limbs, languid and thick and all-consuming as it traveled up from her center into her stomach, her chest, her head.

She felt her eyes roll back into her head as she shuddered; the heat was familiar but unwelcome - there was no pleasure in this to take for herself, and yet - and yet -.

"Fight all you want, Emily," Abraham's voice whirled in her head, floating here and there; amidst the grunts in her ear and the harsh sound of skin and bone grinding into each other. "You can't fight nature, and you certainly can't fight pleasure." A hand came to caress her face, almost loving and gentle in its touch, a respite from the violence, but Emily recoiled from it.

She knew a farce when she saw one.

There was a guttural moan behind her, vibrating into her back and chest as it came from his throat, and Aaron's thrusts became harsh and ragged, uncoordinated as he buried his face into her hair again and pulled her tighter against him. Something sparked inside her despite herself, no matter how hard she tried to fight it, to deny it; goosebumps rose on her skin, her vision tunneled drastically, and the sparks flared out across her skin like the snap of Abraham's whip.

"Mine," Aaron groaned approvingly, as Emily clamped down around him and throttled him inside her. It was painfully tight; every thrust was blunt, until finally he pressed inside her that much deeper and snarled her name. His hips jerked with every twitch of his cock inside her, spending himself completely inside her convulsing walls.

Abraham was practically cooing in delight as he watched Aaron's thighs twitch in reflex, chuckling in approval as his seed began to seep from between them. "Good boy, Aaron. Very, very good boy." He reached out, burying his fingers in the man's thick dark hair and stroking him like a fond pet, brushing his nails along the man's scalp and damp hair as he panted for breath against the shivering woman.

"There," the grey-eyed man sighed in content. "A masterpiece at last."

Her arms hurt from the weight, her knees ached from the pressure on her bones; nothing could compare to the ache between her legs where she felt him throbbing still inside her. The disgrace and surrender that filled her was overwhelming - that she had submitted to what Abraham had wanted of her, more so that she had taken pleasure from it. There was nothing gratifying about what they had done to her; there was nothing sensual or erotic about the brutal defilement of another human being.

Yet the thought of facing her reflection sickened her.

Swallowing thickly; stomaching the bile and retch on her tongue, Emily moved. Only a shift of weight, a bare inch forward from the man, pulling at his grip until at last he relented and released her. She cringed as she felt him pull out, and along with him the thick heat of their release. She crumbled to the ground, shaking in the quiet sobs that wracked her finally, as she curled into a ball as tightly as she possibly could and prayed that the ground would rise up and swallow her in its darkness.

That it would take her away from the madness.

Fingertips touched her ankle, and Emily flinched away from them as they circled the limb and suddenly she was swept back into the bed they'd taken her from. She fought little, welcoming the comfort of the thin mattress beneath her battered body; whimpering only when they forced her legs together and slid something underneath her hips, elevating her pelvis as it was.

Heavy leather bindings wrapped around her ankles kept her feet bound to the bedframe, then her hands to the top of the bedframe; immobilized her for when they needed her next.

She did nothing to fight them. All she could do was stare up at the ceiling and count the cracks in the concrete like sheep. She felt crucified - perhaps she was.

The bed dipped beside her, but she would not turn her gaze to the face hovering in her periphery. She didn't have to see him to know he was there. Something damp brushed against her skin, a cloth - Abraham smiled kindly down at her as he cleaned the blood and stains from her skin with a tenderness that disgusted her more than his violence.

"There now," he whispered soothingly, sweeping the cloth gently between her legs and cleaning away the blood that smeared across her thighs. The bruises were growing darker by the moment, and he smiled at them as he stroked a thumb across her hipbone, admiring the welt. "You've done very well, sweet Emily. Better than I could have hoped."

He rose from the bed, gripping the cloth in his hand like a prize as he turned to the man still kneeling on the ground, staring blankly up at him with his coal-black eyes. "Come along, beast. It's time you had your chores while our whore rests."

Aaron blinked and rose to his feet wordlessly, sparing Emily only a glance as Abraham clipped his leash back onto his collar. "...yes, Master."

* * *

**So we see now what Hell Emily and Hotch were talking about in the introduction. I'm sorry. **


End file.
